


if these sheets were the states

by snorlaxx



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: 3RACHA, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, binsung, chan is best baby, kind of, long distance, they're hurting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23684836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snorlaxx/pseuds/snorlaxx
Summary: and suddenly jisung was back there again, in their cramped room in seoul where they had come up with the name “3RACHA” for their rap trio. changbin had had this stupid, boyish grin plastered on his face and jisung had tried to kiss it away.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Seo Changbin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	if these sheets were the states

_**ALMOST MIDNIGHT.** _

jisung entered the password on his phone, humming a soft song under his breath. his slender fingers drummed against the phone case. the _couple_ phone case he had never gotten around to replacing. the FM radio app was loading.

_loading. loading. loadi-_

“clean up on aisle 5.” jisung let out a string of filthy phrases, cursing whichever poor sob had made a mess in aisle 5 to damnation.

his movements were sluggish, one eye trained on the app, fingers setting the frequency to 106.9 MHz which would tune him into Seoul FEBC.

“han jisung, get your lazy ass to aisle 5,” seungmin drawled over the intercom. he sighed, shoving a broom down seungmin’s throat was an emotion jisung felt often. still, seungmin was his only friend in japan and he had landed him the night shifts at walmart. no matter how much he bickered with seungmin, he loved the guy to bits.

he sped up towards aisle 5, simultaneously hooking his phone to his earphones. that particular late night radio broadcast was something jisung never missed.

aisle 5 was where the glassware was kept; glasses, decoration pieces, jugs etc. the monotonous white tiles were embroidered with shattered glass. if jisung didn’t have to clean that up, he would have thought the scene before him could be molded into a sick metaphor.

the criminal had fled the crime scene but he knew seungmin would take care of that, he would make sure the person paid for the damage they had caused. nobody got past seungmin.

jisung stuffed his earphones in his ears, pocketed his phone and began cleaning up. waiting. waiting for the familiar hip hop beats to flood his eardrums, signifying the start of “찬이의 "방".” as soon as the first chord rang through his head, a smile tugged at his lips. he was almost classically conditioned to this. he was both the dog and pavlov.

“hello hello! welcome to chan’s room! i’m your host bang chan and-”

“i’m changbin!” changbin practically yelled into the microphone but jisung didn’t mind. changbin.

_changbin_.

his voice, though occasionally interrupted by radio static, still sounded the same: raspy, deep and just about the only voice that could drive the butterflies in his stomach into a frenzy. jisung missed it, missed when he could hear that voice without the static. when his voice was close, intimate and only for him.

chan and changbin were talking about food and how changbin had practically devoured an entire serving of red bean stew all by himself.

“why the hell did you eat that much?” chan managed to ask between halting laughter.

“i was celebrating the release of our mixtape, don’t judge me.” jisung imagined changbin pouting as he said this.

“right, our mixtape! a lot of the fans really loved it, even minho said it’s pretty awesome.” the excitement in chan’s voice was evident, getting compliments from minho was a huge deal after all.

jisung crouched to reach for a sizeable shard of glass which had slid under the racks, a bittersweet feeling coating his chest. it hurt like a bitch that he wasn’t with them, but he was happy for their achievements. “today, instead of other artists, we’ll play our songs and woojinie hyung suggested we could sing it to you guys in real time. should be fun, yeah?”

“definitely.” changbin muttered.

jisung stopped, still kneeling down, still holding onto the piece of glass, frozen into place. music was playing and changbin was rapping. it was “힘이 돼.”

jisung saw the blood before he registered the pain. he was holding onto the glass too tight. he was holding onto changbin’s voice too tight, his mind fumbling to grasp every syllable that left the rappers’ mouth.

jisung had the uncanny urge to become one with the sound waves. he had produced the demo for this track.

and suddenly jisung was back there again, in their cramped room in seoul where they had come up with the name “3RACHA” for their rap trio. changbin had had this stupid, boyish grin plastered on his face and jisung had tried to kiss it away.

that night chan had treated the other two to samgyeopsal. that night jisung got his acceptance letter from utokyo.

chan and changbin knew he had worked hard for this. they knew. they let him go. they promised they wouldn’t cry. but jisung had risked one last look back, at the airport. changbin’s head was on chan’s shoulder and the older was rubbing soothing circles along his back.

jisung had softly cried on & off on the entire flight to japan.

_snap out of it_.

jisung tore off his earphones. he wiped away at the water welling up in the crevices of his eyes. _what kind of man cries in aisle 5 of walmart?_

even with his injured hand, jisung made quick work of the mess. throwing the cleaning materials into the janitor’s closet he practically ran to the bathroom.

he winced. maybe putting his cut up hand under the cold water wasn’t the brightest course of action but it took his mind off the bank of memories threatening to drown jisung.

with a shaky breath he put on his earphones again. changbin was singing his solo track, “IF.” _fuck_. jisung knew changbin had poured his everything into this song and was, rightly, proud of it.

jisung thought about just clicking off the app and maybe play a game on his phone but then changbin’s voice wavered. he felt a horrible ache in his heart.

“changbin?”

the first sob was all but disguised by the static but jisung had heard it, recognised it, _felt_ it.

changbin was breathing hard, his cries loud and clear. he was crying and the wetness on his own cheeks told him that his tear glands had betrayed him as well.

“binnie? binnie, what’s wrong?” chan’s tone was worried.

“hyung i… i just miss him so damn much,” changbin’s voice sounded like heartbreak. like desperation. like a piece of broken glass in aisle 5 of walmart.

“i miss him too, binnie. so much.”

_i miss you guys too.._

“tell that fucker to just come back home already,” changbin hiccoughed.

“one more year left, he’ll be home soon,” chan whispered, trying to hold himself together. he muttered something to someone else and suddenly, they were off air.

for the longest time, jisung stood in the bathroom realising how lonely he felt without his two best friends.

_one whole fucking year_.

jisung’s phone vibrated from its perch on the sink where he had abandoned it. without bothering to check the caller ID, thinking it was probably just seungmin asking him where he was, he hit “accept.”

“...ji?”

the floor slipped from beneath his feet, he couldn’t trust himself to speak.

“jisung?” he sounded weak, fragile, fractured.

“hi.”

he heard a strangled cry on the other side, “han jisung, i love you.” it was rushed. it was imperfect, and yet jisung’s entire world revolved around that one line out of changbin’s mouth.

they’d exchanged these words before, but this time was different. realer. raw.

“i love you too. so much.”

.

**Author's Note:**

> typing this with my half-healed wrist was killer


End file.
